The Risen: Remnants Read Online Free PDF Page A

a heavy glass vase left by past mourners. The dried flowers sail as she tilts sideways, her head swaying with the blow. She loses some of her strength, dazed by the attack, allowing me to sit up. I do not wait for her to collect herself, but swing the vase repeatedly into her face and listen to them both crack with each connection.
    Her face becomes a slow ruin with her bones breaking and the pale flesh lacerating. Those black-blue veins seep dark blood that splashes with a fine mist over my face and hands, making the glass slippery. I secure the vase, grasping it around the indented neck where a yellowing white ribbon is tied, and bring it down one final time. The resonating crack of bones leaves her still and the final crack of the glass leaves the vase shattered in my hands. Both lay before me broken, covered in blood and catching the light of the stars in the crimson glow.
    I want to relax, my body begs for it with the way fear can steal so much from a person. Still clasped in my hand is a large piece of the neck of the glass vase with only the blood soaked white ribbon keeping the razor edges of the glass from slicing me. My fingers are locked around it, refusing to release the weapon of my salvation like a memento of a well-won battle. When I see the loafers standing beside me again, I am grateful for the small shard.
    His palm wraps around the top of my head, pulling it to the right, exposing the long line of my neck. My spine aches under his strength and it feels as if my muscles will tear from being forced to such a degree of an angle. With one hand, he has immobilized me, unable to stand up or move forward with the weight of his strength and the angle of my torture.
    Sobs escape from my throat with the pain he is causing me. Pain so extreme that I can’t think to fight back. The pain causes a haze of flashing agony along my spine that rips into my head, removing any thoughts of fighting. I am ready to cave under the pain, to give myself over to death if it would stop. I would be free from it all. Just as I make my peace with what is about to happen, one word refills my soul with fire.
    “Mom!” Genny’s scream startles us both. I can feel his attention pull from me and my attention pulls forward. His mind will begin to attempt to understand the new information, holding me captive here until he puts together the new pieces of the puzzle.
    Genny has bought me time, confusing the monster that holds me with her presence, and I don’t plan to waste it. My neck is forced to such an angle that his wrist is exposed with his firm grasp on my head. I close my eyes and offer a prayer to the silent angel that has kept watch over this spot for years. Please Lord, don’t let my daughter see me die today.
    The glass bites into my hand with my slicing of his wrist. I can feel it slide across his tendons like the plucking of the strings of a harp. Instantly, thick, clumped liquid rains over my shoulder, soaking my shirt and neck with his sour smelling blood. The strength of his hand is gone with the damage I have caused to his wrist. It frees me from my pain, allowing my mind to focus once again. The glass is three layers thick now with blood and the ribbon can no longer provide me protection from the razor-like edge. The pain from my palm is laced with fire as the glass shreds my hand as it shredded his wrist, but it is the best weapon I have.
    This sharp, fragile blade has to find its mark to save us. It has to kill him or he will keep coming for us. There is only one spot on their body that seems to result in their deaths; the head. I guess at the height of the male monster and stand, pivoting upwards in a spiral, aiming the glass shard at his temple. The glass slides through his temple like it’s made of cardboard while taking its vengeance on my palm. He stumbles, falling to his side, but his eyes still watch me. The shard is not long, or strong, enough to reach the needed goal. It has only slowed him and already he is